Price Of Honor

Chapter Nineteen

Jane’s internal clock woke her at 0530. She’d slept four solid hours, more than she’d gotten when she’d been twelve on her first training mission with her father. They’d been in the woods then for seventy-two hours, and he’d never let her sleep. Telling her she had to stand guard, and every time she’d start to doze, he’d waken her with a shot in the air. She’d learned to anticipate that sharp blast every time her mind would start to shut down until it became second nature for her to control her sleep along with all her other bodily needs. She could go without food, she could go without water, she could go without sleep and function efficiently up until the moment her body quit, and then it wouldn’t matter anymore. She’d be dead.

Across from her, Hooker breathed lightly, regularly. He was awake too. She wasn’t surprised. For all he looked and acted like an Idaho redneck, he hadn’t survived as a mercenary by being lazy or sloppy. He’d probably opened his eyes at the instant she had.

She’d slept in her clothes, including her boots, so she only had to stand and take three steps to be at the bathroom door. Turning, she caught him watching her, his eyes glittering points in the gloom. “I’m going to take a shower. The door will be locked. If you try to open it, I’ll shoot you.”

“I can wait to take mine,” Hooker said agreeably. “Unless you think you’d like company?”

Jane flicked on the room light, illuminating Hooker, as she quickly stepped into the small, dark bathroom and closed the door. She set her gun on the toilet tank and twisted the shower dial all the way to hot without turning on the lights. Her night vision was good, and she didn’t want to impair it. If Hooker decided to come in, she’d have the dark on her side. The dark, she had learned a long time ago, was her friend. She methodically piled her clothes on the floor in order: boots, pants next to them, shirt next to that, so she could get dressed quickly if she had to. She showered quickly too, the hot water easing some of the aches from long hours in the vehicle and the tension she carried between her shoulders. When she was dressed again, five minutes later, she returned to the outer room and picked up her coat.

“One of those bagel-with-eggs things and ham would be good,” Hooker said. He was sitting on the side of the bed, the light still on, a day’s worth of beard blunting his heavy jaw.

“What makes you think I’m going for food?”

He grinned. “Because you gotta be as hungry as I am, and you’re not going to let me drive the Jeep to go get us something, because you figure I’ll be looking for the money.”

“You know it won’t do you any good.” He was right, of course.

“Still have to try.” He lifted a shoulder. “Force of habit.”

Hooker reminded her of her father in some ways, although he was nowhere near the man her father had been. But he thought like a soldier. He understood tactics and logistics. That at least was comfortable and familiar, and in some weird way, he understood her because they thought the same. The idea of him knowing even a little of what drove her was unsettling, and she couldn’t afford to be unsettled. So she put Hooker out of her mind for now. She had a busy day ahead and needed a clear mind.

She turned right out of the lot and drove a quarter of a mile over empty, snow-covered roads to the convenience store. She arrived at 0559. Hers was the only car in the lot. Someone had plowed it at least an hour ago, and a fresh inch of snow lay over the surface. The storm hadn’t lost any of its power, and at this rate, they’d have another foot by midmorning. She needed to be downtown and out again by then. At six exactly all the lights came on and a teenage boy, tall and skinny and moving slowly, unlocked the door.

The store smelled of burnt coffee and microwaved food. Her boots left muddy tracks on a still-damp floor. The sandwiches in the hot case were probably a day old, but neither she nor Hooker would care about that. Food was fuel, and as long as it wouldn’t make her sick, she’d eat what was available. She picked up half a dozen egg-and-meat sandwiches and four large cups of coffee. She didn’t have anything to say to the boy behind the counter, and he didn’t speak to her either.

Behind the wheel, she started the motor, cranked up the heat, and opened the plastic lid on one of the coffees. She added a creamer and dug out her phone. Robbie answered before it rang a second time.

“Hey,” he said. “Where are you? You good?”

His voice, so familiar, vibrating with warmth and concern, put a lump in her throat. “Less than a day away. You on schedule?”

“More or less. We haven’t briefed today but I’m guessing by tonight we’ll be behind.”

“Remember what Dad used to say about surprise and diversion being two of our most important weapons?”

“Yeah?” Rob sounded uneasy. “What’s going on?”

“If the train stops suddenly, get away from the front.”

“Jesus.”

“And it’s better if you don’t know. I’ll be expecting you to pull into Trinidad tomorrow morning. If that changes, call me. But be careful.”

“Okay. Are you su—”

“It’s going to be fine. Don’t worry.”

She was back at the motel in fifteen minutes. She brought her duffel in along with the coffee and food to change into clean clothes. Hooker must have showered. His stubble was gone, and he’d even put on a clean red-and-black checked flannel shirt.

“Did you call your contact?” She put the food and coffee down on the dull brown metal dresser between the two beds. Hooker picked up a coffee, took off the plastic lid, and shook two packets of sugar into it. He added three of the dozen creamers she’d grabbed and put the lid back on. “Bit early for that. My friends tend to be late sleepers.”

“Wake them up.”

Hooker laughed. “Yes, ma’am. In an hour or two, I’ll do that.”

“Checkout here’s eleven thirty. I’m going to be on the road by then. We need to arrange the meet for this afternoon.”

“I’ll do what I can, but—”

“Five-thousand-dollar bonus. Make it happen.”

Hooker sighed and reached for a sandwich. “Women officers are always a pain in the ass.”

“It’s a volunteer army. You know where the door is.”

Hooker grinned. “No, ma’am. I love my job.”

*

Viv typed in changes to her schedule as the White House deputy press secretary updated the reporters on the day’s events. Par for the course, the morning had been scrambled due to unavoidable changes in the motorcade routes for both POTUS and the first daughter due to weather. The motorcades couldn’t leave the train station until local police finished rerouting traffic and setting up the barricades and perimeter blocks. The station squatted on a river plain on the outskirts of a small rural community with nothing nearby except a few gas stations, a Denny’s, and a Dunkin’ Donuts. Nothing worth braving the storm for. The only good part of the delay was she’d get to spend more time with Dusty before Dusty and Atlas headed out with the advance team. According to the duty roster Phil Virtucci had given her, Dusty and Atlas were assigned to the detail working the underground parking garage where Blair Powell’s motorcade would enter the hospital for Blair’s tour of the children’s ward.

As soon as the briefing was finished, Viv gathered her things and worked her way through the departing throng toward the rear of the train. The only way to get anywhere was to go through the intervening cars, but fortunately, the press section was only a few cars away from the kennel cars. She intercepted Dusty and Atlas as they were climbing back into the car. They both had snow in their hair. Atlas gave a brisk shake and sparkling drops of melting snow flew from his thick, dark coat. Dusty shook her head quickly too, and a halo of flakes hung in the air for a second. They both looked happy.

“Been for a walk?” Viv asked, the sight of them warming her with delight.

“He was getting a little cabin fever in here.”

“How is it out there?”

“Visibility is pretty bad, but the wind’s died down. Could be worse.”

Dusty rested her hand on Atlas’s head, and Viv had an instant of wishing she was the one being petted. Okay, enough of that. The day would be a damn long one if she didn’t get her mind off sex.

Dusty said, “There’s a little coffee kiosk over in the station. It looks like they have pretty decent Danish. You hungry?”

Oh yes, she was, she definitely was. If she couldn’t get Dusty alone in a cabin, at least she could grab a few minutes with her away from curious eyes.

“That sounds great.”

Dusty held out her hand and drew Viv toward the ramp leading down from the car. “Watch it, it’s slippery.”

Viv followed her out and onto the train platform. Local law enforcement and Secret Service agents kept the station clear of pedestrian and vehicular traffic, and all the other trains had been rerouted. The area was deserted except for the agents posted on the platform and along the train. The old-fashioned train station was a long, low green building with high-backed wooden benches in front. A Secret Service agent stood post outside the station, her topcoat collar turned up against the wind and a hat with ear flaps pulled down to practically obscure her face. She didn’t move as they passed.

Inside, more benches filled the tiled waiting area. The ticket area at the end of the large, high-ceilinged room consisted of individual windows lined up side by side behind a red-velvet rope line. Two ticket sellers waited at the windows with nothing to do. Another Secret Service agent stood just inside the main entrance. Sepia photographs on all four walls displayed scenes of old cars, a bus and train station, and a town with board sidewalks. The light fixtures dangling from chains overhead were wrought iron and looked to be a hundred years old. Everything about the place was old, but genuinely old, not reproductions.

Three round tables with wooden slat-back chairs were tucked into one corner in front of a coffee kiosk. A cold case and a small barista bar offered hot and cold drinks, fruit, yogurt, ubiquitous doughnuts, and some excellent-looking Danish. Viv ordered a cinnamon roll and coffee, and Dusty did the same. They sat at one of the small round tables, almost alone.

“It’s kind of eerie with no one else here,” Viv said into the hushed silence.

“Kind of nice.” Dusty looked completely at home in the rustic setting in her black nylon windbreaker and boots and black pants. She had the windblown look of someone who lived and worked outdoors. Rugged and strong and sturdy.

Viv had never really gone for earthy and dependable before. Most of the women she met and consequently dated were urban sophisticates. Dusty was completely different, but definitely not simple. Nothing was simple about Dusty, except that she was genuine. Viv was finding genuine to be decidedly sexy. She dragged her mind back to work. “Can I follow you on your rounds this morning?”

“If Phil says it’s okay, I don’t see why not.”

“It won’t bother you or Atlas?”

“Nope. There’s always a few spectators around. People like to watch us.”

“I’m not surprised. You’re kind of exciting.”

Dusty laughed. “You’re putting me on, right?”

“No, really. People think your job is glamorous. To travel with the president and his family. You guard the most important man in the world. And of course, there are the super powers.”

Dusty narrowed her eyes. “You know, I can tell when you’re making fun.”

Viv grinned. “Only just a little. I happen to think you’re pretty glamorous, and I know you have super powers.”

“Is that right?”

She nodded solemnly. “I’ve kissed you, remember.”

Dusty’s eyes darkened and her grin turned into a hungry smile. “I remember very well. Every single one.”

Viv’s heart fluttered in her throat. She was hopeless—she just couldn’t stop flirting with her. Hell, she wasn’t trying to flirt with her, she just wanted to seduce her. And she wanted to know that Dusty was as crazy out of her mind as she was. “I remember every one too. Especially the last one this morning. I’m still recovering.”

Dusty glanced at her watch. “In about twenty-five minutes I’ll go to work, and I’m not gonna think about kissing you until we’re back on the train and Atlas is in his crate taking a snooze.”

“Good, I don’t want you to.”

“I’m not quite finished,” Dusty said in a tone of voice Viv hadn’t heard before.

Strong and certain. Commanding. The fluttering in Viv’s chest flamed into her throat.

“The minute he’s squared away, I’m going to find you, and the next minute I want more kisses…more of everything.”

More of everything. Yes. So did she. Viv grasped at reason. “I know this sounds completely ridiculous seeing how I’ve been thinking of nothing else myself, but I don’t usually move so fast.”

“Is that a no?”

“No! It’s not. No. I mean, most definitely a yes.” Viv’s face heated. “I just want you to know this is different…I’m not usually like this with women.”

“I don’t care about before or other women,” Dusty said. “I don’t just think about seeing you tonight, I think about seeing you tomorrow, and tomorrow after that.”

“Dusty,” Viv said softly.

“I know. I know it’s not supposed to be that way and that’s okay, I’m just telling you how I feel.”

“You’re making me very, very crazy.”

“And that’s bad, right?”

Viv laughed. “Oh no. It’s really, really good.”

*

A Stop along the Way

Hospitals were the hardest. She did them all the time, because hospitals were part of larger organizations, often with patrons who were big donors, and because the patients loved the visits. The children’s hospitals were the hardest. So much sadness mixed in with the triumphs. Her heart broke a little every time. Thankfully, this was the only hospital visit on the schedule, and she was almost through. Having Cam with her helped.

She’d been reading a story to a dozen children in the pediatric oncology ward for the last twenty minutes, while Cam sat nearby with a couple of kids balanced on her knee and the rest scattered around them on big pillows and little chairs with their IV poles and their plastic bags filled with poisons designed to kill the killer inside them. She finished the story and closed the book.

Several children cheered, and those who could clapped.

“You’ve all been terrific. My best audience ever!” Blair handed the book to one of the nurses and rose. “Thank you so much for letting me visit.”

The children waved, a few touched her hand, and they all called good-bye. She slid her hand through the curve of Cam’s arm. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

The hospital administrator, a husky blond with a too-tight suit shiny at the knees, walked them out as Stark and Mac Phillips fell in behind them. He made the usual platitudes about how happy he was they had visited and how sure he was that the board would remember her father’s generosity in sponsoring the fund-raiser designed to help build a new wing, and all the usual politically appropriate things.

Blair shook his hand. “Thank you for having me. Please tell your board my father supports the kind of health care reform that allows our hospitals to grow and provide the best care possible.”

“Of course. Wonderful to have you and your…uh…” He glanced at Cam and flushed.

“Spouse,” Blair said helpfully.

He cleared his throat. “Yes, well, we’re very glad to have you.”

“Our pleasure.” Blair turned to the elevator where Secret Service Agent Felicia Adams, tall and elegant as an Egyptian queen come to life, held the door open. As soon as she was inside and the door slid closed, she let out a long sigh. “I am ready for two hours of absolute silence.”

Cam laughed and squeezed her hand. “They were a bit vociferous.”

“I guess that’s better than them being too sick to enjoy it.” She leaned back and closed her eyes. Hospitals. She hated them. She had since those last months when her mother had spent more time in one than out, and finally had entered never to return.

The elevator bumped to a stop and Felicia straightened, squinting at the numbers above the door. They were between the first floor and the garage level and not moving.

“We’ve got a situation in the elevator,” Felicia said into her wrist com. “Stopped between floors. Brock?”

Cam looked up at the ceiling, frowning.

“What?” Blair asked.

“Nothing,” Cam said. “I just wanted to make sure I couldn’t hear anything above us. Probably the electronics misreading the sensors. It’ll probably start up again in a second.”

“Brock’s downstairs,” Felicia said. “Everything’s clear there. Just hold on.” She opened the control box, inserted a key, and punched G. After a second the elevator started up again, and a minute later they settled and the doors opened.

“Just wait a moment,” Cam murmured, sliding her hand inside her topcoat.

Brock appeared in front of the door. “Everything all right?”

“Yes,” Felicia said. “Just a little glitch with the electronics.”

“This way, then.” He gestured for Blair and Cam to follow him, and three more agents converged on their small party, heading for their SUV. A K9 agent with a gorgeous dog wearing a vest with the USSS K9 emblem on it walked along beside the line of SUVs, accompanied by a brunette Blair recognized. One of the reporters, but she couldn’t recall her name.

When the reporter saw them coming, she stopped and smiled warmly as Blair passed. “Congratulations, Ms. Powell, Director Roberts. I missed the wedding, but I heard it was wonderful.”

Blair paused. She was used to reporters calling questions to her about the marriage, but she couldn’t think of one who’d congratulated her. “Thank you.” She nodded toward the agent with the dog. “Interviewing for a new job?”

“Not just yet,” the brunette said. “Research. An article on the K9 division.”

“Terrific idea. They’re amazing—the dogs and the people.”

“I know. I’m Vivian Elliott. Washington Gazette.”

“Nice to meet you, Vivian. You’ll have to let me know when it’s coming out. I’d love to read it.”

“Actually, would you mind talking with me a few minutes about it?” Viv asked quickly. “Ten minutes, whenever you’ve got a chance. Your view of the division would be a great addition.”

“Of course. We’ll have plenty of time between now and the end of the line.”

“Great,” Viv said. “Who should I contact to schedule?”

Blair laughed. “That would be me. Give me your number and I’ll text you.”

Blair handed over her phone, and Viv punched in her number, then handed it back.

“Thank you so much,” Viv said, stepping back. “Looking forward to it.”

Mac opened the rear door of the SUV, and Blair waved. “I’ll be in touch. Thanks again.”

The SUV pulled out and Cam said quietly, “How are you doing?”

“How much longer is this trip?” Blair asked.

“You were great. It will be over soon.”

Blair counted the days in her head. Less than a week to go, and only a dozen appearances. She’d survive. She took Cam’s hand. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

Cam slipped an arm around her shoulders. “Where else would I be?”